If Your Glass Heart Should Crack
by Violet Scarlet Lily
Summary: When she knocks on your door, you let her in. Of course you do. You always will, and you both know it. That's why she's here. Skate/Jate/Suliet fic.
1. Chapter 1

When she knocks on your door, you let her in. Of course you do. You always will, and you both know it. That's why she's here.

She's crying. It's not a pretty cry – she's never been a beautiful crier. You've always hated it, the way she cries. Her hair is just as messy as it was before you got back. She wears no makeup. She is considerably thinner than she was the last time you saw her. But that's not how you know her mind is slipping.

You know her mind is slipping because she's wearing his clothes, and men's cologne. Probably his.

She collapses into your arms, sobbing uncontrollably, and you hold her close. Your mind is constructing the story as you stroke her hair.

She's probably been living in his apartment, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed. Your heart would've broken for her, if there was anything left to break. But your heart is so patched up and shattered, and she can't touch it anymore.

That's what you think, until she calls his name as you kiss her. And you feel your heart shred again and again.

It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't hurt to hear her call you by his name. He's dead – you've won. But that's a sick thought. Even though, strangely, you wish you hadn't won. Though you love her, you loved Juliet more. That doesn't matter. Juliet's gone too. Kate's here, and that's why you let her kiss you. That's why you kiss her back.

Her tears are on your cheeks, but you don't try to wipe her eyes. That's what he used to do for her – wiping away her tears, telling her everything was going to be okay.

She never says your name. You don't know if she's lying to herself or just losing her mind.

You're being too generous to her. She's probably just trying to replace him. Isn't that what you've always been? Her second place, second rate replacement for him. Under pressure, she always picked him. And then when he wouldn't have her, she'd take you.

There's no place for bitterness here, but you've let it creep in. You've always been good at keeping grudges. You have to push that aside – don't think about him at all. Think about her, and how she's hurting, and how you still have something that resembles feelings for her.

It's almost funny. You never really had a shot at her. She was always his. But there's a part of you that will always be hers. Even though you really did think that you'd forgotten her.

How could you forget her? Juliet was calm – always calm. Made you feel secure. But that is forgettable with time. Kate is many things. Infuriating. Indecisive. Cruel when she wants to be. Passionate. Unforgettable.

You hate to think that she probably never thought of you at all in the three or so years when she was off the island.

But the sadder thought is that if she could hold herself the way you hold her, she wouldn't need you all.

Or maybe that's the happiest thought. That she needs you even a little bit.

She brings out a side of you that you don't know or understand. Especially when she acts like this. Clinging to you, pleading for you to stay and never leave her.

A thought flits through your head – how nice it would've been to hear those words four years ago.

She comes frequently. You don't know why she's not in jail. Probably because she's crazy.

All you can do is hold her close. You can't do anything else. You can't get in her head and convince her that he's gone.

You don't know why you protect her. Maybe it's because you told her once that you'd keep her safe. Maybe you've become the kind of person who keeps promises.

Maybe you still love her. Maybe it hurts so badly to hear her call out his name, so badly you can almost feel it. Like you're being stabbed in the gut. Maybe you hold her and make love to her because you hope one day she'll say your name instead of his.

It's a fool's hope, but you've always been a fool. It doesn't matter anyways. You're breathing, but you're not alive, and she's more dead than you are.

That sparkle in her eyes is gone.

You remember the first time you saw her eyes, and the way they drew you in. All of that is gone now – she's a shell who comes to you to try to fill herself up again.

But you can pretend, right? No harm in pretending that the sparkle's still there, that her eyes aren't wet with tears. No harm there.

All the harm in you holding her close, all the harm in letting yourself start to care about anyone again.

* * *

It takes almost a year for you to stop drinking excessively, once you've gotten back. Maybe you were too drunk to taste it before, but you can always taste alcohol on her breath after that first year.

She makes you so fragile, your heart ready to break into shards at any second. You're sure her glass heart is already shattered.

Her lips, pressed against yours, and when you put your arms on her waist you can feel the bones stick out. You want to stop her, to ask her to please eat something, ask her to maybe not drink an entire pack of beer as soon as she leaves you. But it feels so good to have her pressed against you that you don't stop her.

He would've stopped her, if he had seen her like this. But he's not here now, and you've never been like him. You've never been a hero.

Heroes always end up dead. That's why you and her are still around. For all of her play-acting, all of her faked heroics, she's here, and you're here, and Jack and Juliet are gone.

Only the good die young. It almost makes you laugh. It's too true. That's why you've always loved her. She tried to pretend to be good, but deep down you and her know it's never going to be that way.

You two are here. They're not.

So you open the door every time she comes. Every time. Even though you two are still destroying each other, the way you always have.

What else can you do?


	2. Chapter 2

She doesn't show up at your house for a week. You don't know why she's not here. Your first thought is that she's dead.

You don't even know where she could be. But you know she's at his place. Shouldn't be hard to find.

It takes buying a phonebook. For a second you wonder why you're doing this for her. You take a taxi down to the apartment. It's in a nice part of the city. What else would you've expected, knowing him?

The door is unlocked. A spasm of fear goes through you – she's alone in there, unprotected. And then you tense up. You can't think that way about her.

There's no sound when you open the creaky door. It's a mess of a place, beer cans everywhere, piled on an expensive leather couch, stacked on a granite countertop.

You know exactly where she is – _hisbedhisbedhisbed_ – but you give her the courtesy of looking around in all the other rooms first. But when you finally enter that room, there she is, her beautiful brown curls spread across a pure white pillow. If you ignore the details, she could be lying on a blanket on the sand, kissing your jaw, laughing softly, smiling. But soon the details become too much to ignore. The three beer cans on the floor, the way her cheeks and eyes are sunken in. The way her hands are clutching the sheets like she'll slip away if she lets go.

You sit down next to her sleeping form, gently pushing some of the hair off of her face. You loved her so much, once upon a time.

She is unresponsive.

"Kate," you say softly – Kate, not Freckles – and you think your voice sounds just a little bit like his. You almost shudder at that thought. Though you respected him in the end, you never wanted and still don't want to be anything like him.

She stirs.

"Jack?"

You don't tell her otherwise, and she sits up, curling her body into yours.

"My head hurts," she says in a small, childlike voice.

You don't say anything, just hold her close, stroking her hair. Then the tears start to fall again, and you want to hate them. But you don't. You don't have energy for that anymore.

She captures your lips in a violent kiss, desperate, and you don't deny her. There is absolutely no point to doing that.

The next morning, you're cuddled close to her, and you almost want to laugh – you two are in his bed. But it's really not funny at all, it's horrible and sad and makes you feel dirty inside, something you've never felt before.

And then you're angry, because he is reaching out and messing with your head from beyond the grave.

That's not fair. You shouldn't think like that.

You need to get away from her for a few minutes, clear your head. Something, anything.

So you go down the hall and you painstakingly drop every single beer can into a trash bag that you found under the sink. You do this until all you can hear in your head is the sound of tin hitting tin, and you can't even hear the thoughts in your head.

You don't hear her bare feet walk down the hallway. She's wearing one of his dress shirts. You want to shake your head at her, tell her to move on, that he was gone and never coming back.

But you don't. Saying that would make you the biggest hypocrite in the world. Because as hard as you tried not to, when you climaxed last night, she said Jack and you said Juliet.

Neither of you say anything to each other, and it's in these moments you think she knows you're not him.

She crosses the kitchen, and starts to make her way over to the refrigerator.

"Oh no you don't," you mutter, and you get in her way.

She fights you, but you put your arms around her and you don't let her go. You don't let her move, you hold her tight until her struggling subsides, and suddenly she's weeping. You run your hand down her back, and say two simple words.

"I know."

You know better than anybody else.

She whimpers wordlessly, and then her body goes slack. You have to hold her up – support her.

"Hey, hey, Kate…"

"He – he's gone…"

"I know," you say softly.

She doesn't reply.

* * *

_Hey, thanks for reading :) More to come soon. Also, if you like Lost (which I assume you do, since you're here), follow my Lost RP account at kate_shephard on instagram :)_


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